just let me be there for you
by HaneGaNai
Summary: Prompt fill: anonymous asked: Hiiii ! I'm really sick:( can you do a fic where stiles is sick and he doesn't want to admit it so peter has to basically drag him to bed ? Pleeease! Established relationship would be so much better!


"For fuck's sake, Peter, would you stop?" Stiles tried to grab the keys to his Jeep, but Peter held them out of his reach as he pushed the younger male towards the passenger side. "I told you I'm fine. I don't need you following me home." He ground at the werewolf, but he got into the car when it looked like Peter would bodily put him inside.

The look Peter gave him told him exactly what the werewolf thought of his fronting.

And okay, maybe he felt slightly dizzy and a little more than slightly nauseous, his face was flushed and skin clammy with sweat. But he didn't feel all that bad! It looked worse than it really was.

"Seriously, it's just a cold." Stiles said petulantly, curling in his seat and sniffing loudly. Ugh, he could hardly breathe through his nose.

Peter was silent as he pulled out of the parking lot in front of the apartment building containing the loft. They both came for the weekly pack meeting, Stiles never missed those. Until today that is. The moment Peter noticed the state he was in the wolf grabbed at him and pulled him back to the car.

"It was 'just a cold' three days ago, but since you refused to take it easy for a few days like I told you to, you got a lot worse. You would have been back to health by now had you just accepted my help." The werewolf scolded as he drove them to Stiles' house, handling Roscoe with ease. Peter was one of the carefully selected few allowed behind the wheel of Stiles' baby.

"I don't need coddling." He replied and then sneezed almost bashing his head on his knee where he pulled it onto the seat. He wiped his nose with his sleeve, ignoring completely the sound of disgust coming from Peter. Stiles saw him bleed and with some of his guts out, he could deal with a little snot.

With a sigh Peter reached over and rubbed his palm over Stiles' nape, managing to steer them into through town practically effortlessly.

Stiles leaned into the touch without a second thought. He wasn't really sure why he was so stubborn about this, he's been bruised and battered more times than he'd like and for almost half of them Peter was there to put him back together. It all came with a special brand of bitchiness from both of them, but it really felt nice to have someone to take care of him when the events of the day caught up to him and his whole body ached.

Somehow though, subsiding to the whims of his own treacherous body sounded much worse. Cuts and broken ribs almost always were his rewards for saving his friends' butts, they came with protecting people and fighting for his own. This, he thought as he stumbled out of the car and had to prop himself up against the Jeep, this just made him feel weak.

"You're hopeless. You can barely stand." Peter scolded as he rounded the car and wrapped an arm around Stiles' waist to help him into the house.

"Just help me to the couch and I'll be good. I mean, thanks for the help and all, but you don't really have to stick around." He tried to steer them towards the living room, but even at full health he wasn't able to out-strength Peter if the werewolf didn't let him.

"First of all, you're going to change into your pajamas and go to bed and rest." Peter said as he practically carried Stiles up the stairs and wasn't that emasculating. "And second, I'm staying so I can make sure you actually stay in bed."

He helped Stiles all the way to the bed and left him there as he moved to the drawers to find Stiles clean clothes.

"We'll find you some pills and I'll make you some soup." Peter continued as he came back with the softest pair of sweatpants Stiles owned and a shirt that looked suspiciously like it actually belonged to Peter.

Stiles slipped out of his flannel and reached for the hem of his shirt and Peter's hands were already there, lifting the garment up and off and helping Stiles into the clean henley.

"You don't have to do all that." Stiles said, trying for soft this time, as he watched Peter take of his shoes and socks.

The care Peter was showing him had taken him slightly by surprise. They have been together for a few months now, but this was completely new to Stiles. This softness Peter was showing him. It made something in Stiles and his next words were just to keep up the front, he didn't want the werewolf to leave him alone anymore. "I can take care of myself."

Peter paused in peeling Stiles' remaining sock off and looked up at him. His expression on his face was as gentle as the tone of his voice. "Stiles, I know you do even if you're not doing a very good job of it right now. But can you just lie back and let me take care of you?"

Stiles just looked back at the werewolf for a moment and then nodded, because what else could he do?

A few hours later, drowsy on meds, his stomach settled and filled with delicious soup, Stiles snuggled closer into Peter's side he didn't feel weak anymore. He felt soothed and warm and loved. And that was all he could really wish for.


End file.
